


Childhood's End

by eliza_doolittlethings



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kid Molly Hooper, Kid Sherlock Holmes, Kidlock AU, Making Friends, Molly and Sherlock are neighbors, Teen Greg Lestrade, Teen Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliza_doolittlethings/pseuds/eliza_doolittlethings
Summary: New to the neighborhood Molly Hooper spends her days hiding in the tree overlooking her neighbor's yard. She's fascinated by the curly haired boy and his older brother. But it's not until her boisterous cousin arrives that she really starts to get to know her intriguing neighbors.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper
Kudos: 8





	Childhood's End

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story inspired by the movie 'Corrina Corrina'   
>  I have been wanting to write a .. 'Mollock' for quite some time.  
> It is a growing up story, a Christmas story ..  
> Hope you like it.  
> If you do, it is thanks to Lavender_and_Vanilla who has been with me reading and correcting throughout my writing.  
> Any mistakes are mine :)
> 
> The link is a representation of how I see them, as kids!

<https://www.deviantart.com/tornatic/art/Shinee-Sherlock-294196307>

“Molly,” the old lady called out tottering into the backyard. “Molly,” she called again muttering to herself, “Where the Devil did she disappear to?” and made her way back to the house.

Molly watched silently, seated on a low branch of a tree situated at the edge of the yard, whose branches grew over to the neighbouring house’s garden. Adjusting herself so that she was comfortable, the 7yr old carefully took out her drawing pad she'd stuffed into her frock.

“Redbeard!” the young boy shouted from the backyard next door. “Here boy,” he called out and got down on his hands and knees as the dog came bounding from behind a shed. “Mycroft promises that Mummy will not put you down.” He spoke to the dog while rubbing it’s neck and chin. “It’s not your fault that Sherrin got hurt.” Almost sobbing, his curls covering his eyes, the boy hugged the dog hard. Then he led the dog into the house.

Molly sat quietly while she watched the boy. Taking out her red crayon from the pocket of her frock she started sketching.

* * *

  
  
  


Molly was born in America. Her mother had died 3 months back in a car crash and her father felt a change of scenery would do them good. So he moved to [Surrey](https://conandoyleestate.com/news/conan-doyles-14-bed-victorian-home-transformed-into-a-school), England.

His mother had joined them to help settle, leaving his father back in America.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Sherlock was also 7yrs old. He had moved in with Mycroft and Uncle Rudy after his dog Redbeard had jumped over his brother Sherrinford’s cradle. They had brought the dog along hoping to dissuade Mummy Holmes from insisting it be put down.

* * *

  
  
  


“I know it’s only been a week but you know how your father gets when alone,” the old lady busied herself with the cutlery. “I must be returning soon and you cannot seem to take care of Molly all by yourself!” she prattled on.

“Mom, she will be fine! Just give her time,” Mr. Hooper said as he closed the drawer that she’d pulled out, hugged his mother by the shoulder and kissed her head. The tiny lady reached only till his chest.

“And you?” she asked her son clearly worried.

“I’ll manage,” he sighed out giving a halfhearted smile and walked out of the kitchen.

“No, you won’t,” his mother followed him, towel in hand as she continued to badger him.

* * *

  
  
  


Molly stood by the kitchen door, book in hand watching them silently. Then she stepped out and went back to her hiding place.

“Hiding are you?” the voice was from across the fence.

Molly peeped in between the branches and saw a plump red haired teenager standing below the branches close to the fence, hands deep in his brown shorts pocket, wearing a sky blue tee shirt that clashed with his fiery red hair.

“I’m Mycroft,” the boy smiled, seeing Molly watch him curiously. “You must be Molly,” he lost his smile as he continued. “Mr. Hooper had visited us yesterday.”

Licking his lips, eyebrows moving up and then closing together on that wide forehead he folded his hands across his chest.

“Have you seen my brother and a dog?” he thoughtfully asked, squinting as the sun gleamed through the branches, lighting up his pale face.

Molly shook her head, then slowly spoke, “They were playing here before I went into the house.”

Mycroft raised both eyebrows and nodded saying, “Thank you,” with a soft smile. Feeling self conscious and having run out of topics he turned around and walked back to the house.

  
  


* * *

  
  


As the months flew Molly got to know more of the Holmes household. 

It happened soon. The Holmes parents came with their third son all bundled up discharged from the hospital. Redbeard barked his lungs out all day being shut in the shed in the backyard for jumping up at Mummy Holmes in his excitement.

Sherlock had tried to calm him to no avail. Mycroft lured the dog into the shed with cake and what looked like bacon.

Mummy Holmes had lost her temper and shouted at the top of her voice making Sherlock sulk in his room.

As the weeks passed and Mycroft found a way to calm the dog Sherlock started spending more time with his baby brother.

* * *

  
  


Molly’s grandma had returned to her home in America and her father left her to her devices, as it was the holidays, postponing her going school until next year.

She spent her time up the tree watching the boy with curly hair and his dog play in the backyard. Mycroft occasionally came out and spoke to her, invited her over for tea even, but not getting any response accepted her silence.

Things changed with the arrival of her cousin Greg who lived in France. He was 16 yrs old and wanted to join the Royal Air Force.

Joining her up the tree, he called out to Sherlock , thus revealing her hideout. She was furious.

#### That brought about a lot of changes in Molly’s life.

  
  


For one, she joined him over the fence to the Holmes yard, reluctantly at first; became friends with Redbeard and eventually Sherlock, Mycroft being the observer. Greg had an enigmatic way and drew the attention of Mycroft.

Molly however spoke very little and that didn’t bother Sherlock who was happy to have a silent audience. She went with Sherlock taking Redbeard for his evening walk and even got to hold Sherrinford after impressing Mummy Holmes with her kitchen skills.

She enjoyed doing the dishes, meticulously devoting herself to the tedious task, something that she learnt from her grandma. She could also command Redbeard with a look, a stare or a narrowing of eyes that for Sherlock was an achievement; though he would never outwardly acknowledge that.

* * *

Mycroft, who had been outspoken and indulgent while with Molly became reticent and strict after the arrival of Greg. 

Molly’s curiosity was picked. She watched the plump happy teenager watch his diet, offer to take Redbeard for walks, where he usually preferred reading while Sherlock walked the dog.

Seeing him modify his actions whenever Greg was around she tried to verify the reason for his sudden reclusive behaviour.

“More cake,” she offered smilingly, holding the plate towards Mycroft who was perched on an old log of wood near the shed in the corner of their backyard.

Greg was playing with Redbeard, while Sherlock, dressed as a pirate, was charging towards them with a paper sword that Greg had cut out for him.

Mycroft looked up from the book, placed his forefinger on the page while closing it and quickly glanced past her, then shook his head while running his tongue along his lower lip.

“He likes you. You should ask him to join you when walking Redbeard,” she said, smiling slyly.

Mycroft’s eyes widened in disbelief.

* * *

Molly left the plate of cake on the log, walked over to Greg and said something. He smiled widely and went into the house.

Mycroft watched silently not budging.

A few minutes later Greg came out with a tray laden with lemonade and four glasses. He walked towards Mycroft, balanced the tray deftly on the log and sitting down poured out the drink, ice jingling as it fell into each glass, condensed water dripping down the outside.

Mycroft pretended to read while constantly monitoring Greg’s movements.

“Here,” the boy said as he offered a glass to Mycroft.

Mycroft acted surprised as he looked up from his book, smiled tentatively and said, “Thank you,” as he grasped the glass, fingers brushing.

Tensing at the sudden contact Mycroft looked up into Greg's eyes, with trepidation, who smiled softly and then rose.

* * *

  
  


The children stuck to a pattern that the adults could not follow. They spent time in both yards depending on what suited at any given time.

Christmas seemed rather a quiet affair for the Holmes family, to the surprise of Molly and Greg.

While Greg and Mr. Hooper bought a tree and decorated the house with fairy lights and such, the Holmes parents moved back to their cottage in the country taking the baby Holmes brother with them leaving Mycroft to take care of Sherlock.

Uncle Rudy, after a long trip abroad was back home and took charge of the boys. Or rather left the boys to fend for themselves. 

* * *

  
  


##### {Christmas Eve}

“Molly, you are being too forward. Are you sure they’ll want to join us for dinner?” her father asked while drying the dishes that Greg was washing after breakfast.

Molly was standing on a chair next to the kitchen table measuring out flour into a bowl.

“I asked their uncle, sir. He said he’d be glad to send them over as he had to attend a party in the palace tonight and the brothers were not invited,” Greg explained, as he washed the sink and then his hands, drying them on the towel that Mr. Hooper had placed on the counter.

* * *

  
  


“Mycroft! Look! I’ve got a new sword,” Sherlock yelled as he opened a large box that Greg had handed over to him, both boys sitting cross legged on the floor.

The children and Mr. Hooper had had an early dinner and Sherlock had insisted that they not wait for midnight in case Uncle Rudy got home early and asked them to return home.

Smiling at the boy’s enthusiasm Mr. Hooper agreed and asked them to go ahead while he made hot chocolate to go with the gingerbread.

Sherlock had run to the tree and was busy digging among the presents when Greg joined him on the floor and reaching behind the tree took out a long box.

Mycroft stood aside behind the sofa watching curiously, trying to hide his emotions. He had enjoyed dinner, especially having had to sit next to Greg who spoke only to him the whole time.

Sherlock was busy keeping Mr. Hooper engaged with Molly listening attentively; Mr. Hooper nodding occasionally, but lost in memories of previous Christmases.

* * *

  
  
  


“This is for you,” Greg thrust a small package covered in brown paper with no strings or ribbons between Mycroft’s folded arms.

Standing exactly where he had placed himself half an hour ago, behind the settee, arms crossed over his chest, the plump boy stared at the form that was definitely a book.

His palms hidden behind the elbows, the pudgy upper arm peeking from where the sleeve ended were covered in freckles. The sight made him roll his lips inward and swipe his tongue over it. 

The sight was filled by harsh memories from school, where the boys made fun of his sensitive skin. It had made him stay indoors as much as possible.

But, now, playing with Redbeard and Sherlock and closing his eyes, he admitted to himself, in the company of Greg, he’d forgotten about all that.

“Open it,” Greg’s voice infiltrated his self deprecating thoughts.

Slowly unfolding his arms so that the package wouldn’t fall, he said, “I..,” then lost for words, simply caressed the brown cover that had a lovely feel beneath his fingertips. And the smell of the paper soothed his mind. Holding it with both hands he looked dup to see large brown expectant eyes that were filled with joy.

“I didn’t know,” pausing, Mycroft rolled his tongue along his cheek and spoke slowly, a painful tinge to his voice, “I didn’t get any for you.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Greg’s honesty flowed over his aching heart like a balm. The boy held his freckled forearm and spoke quietly, “You can come out with me to the corner shop. Sherlock said it’s open till after midnight.” Smiling slyly, Greg rubbed his thumb slowly just above the wrist where Mycroft wore his watch.

Seeing Mycroft flush red and eye his hand, Greg pulled away as if he was scorched and running a hand through his hair, dipping the other into his trouser pocket, he shrugged and noncommittally added, “Hear they have the best lemon drops ..” his voice trailed off as he looked away at Sherlock and Molly dismantle a talking doll that her father had bought for her.

“I would like that,” Mycroft’s hesitant reply brought out the smile in Greg’s eyes like the sun peeking from behind a clouded sky.

* * *

“No you cannot come Sherlock,” Mycroft whispered with an emphatic look.

Pouting Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest and kicked the torn gift wrappers that were strewn on the floor.

“It is past your bedtime and if Uncle Rudy gets back and sees you out of bed you know Mummy will hear about this!” Mycroft intoned gripping his brother by the shoulder.

Shrugging his shoulders Sherlock escaped Mycroft’s grasp and ran out, Redbeard barking and following.

Greg who had been pretending to clean the floor that was scattered with gift wrappers, empty boxes and paper plates rose slowly and walked towards Mycroft.

“We can go now and return early if that’s ok,” he said hoping to reassure the boy who stood with his hands hanging limp, face red with anger.

Pale blue eyes stared at Greg and slowly Mycroft’s features softened, a cloud lifted as he smiled and said, “He gets bored fast. We can bring him back and then take Redbeard for a walk in the park.”

Greg, who had been listening with his head cocked to one side smiled widely as the plan hit him and rushed out shouting, “You tell Uncle Hooper. I'll get Sherlock.”

* * *

  
  


Molly hugged her doll tight walking next to Sherlock who his pirate hat covering his outing face kept glancing at Molly’s present while steadily walking to the corner shop.

He had wanted to bring his sword along but Mycroft had strongly indicated that either he stayed back with the sword or he come without it.

The shop at the corner was a bread store, selling cakes and confectionary

only in the season.

As the group neared the door Sherlock barged in running towards the special section searching for his favourite pirate themed sweets .

[ ](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pirate_Themed_Wedding_Cupcakes_\(5048777048\).jpg)

* * *

Greg, who had slowed his pace to walk with Mycroft, hands in his pockets whistling a tune softly, rushed ahead to hold the door open for Molly. He smiled at Mycroft who entered with trepidation.

Mycroft was wearing a light blue sweater that contrasted beautifully with his red hair and flushed face. Greg stood admiring the contrast, only to see Mycroft’s miffed look.

Uncertain, he licked his lips, closed the door and stood next to Molly, slowly rocking on his feet.

  
  


* * *

Molly whispered, “He thinks you don’t like him because he’s fat. And he’s afraid to eat because he cannot stop.”

“Oh,” Greg said , looking down at her, watching her sway from side to side, the way mother’s do when holding their babies. “Don’t rock her too much. She’ll get sea sick,” Greg said as he caressed Molly’s hair and gave the doll a kiss.

“What’ll you have?” he asked her turning to watch Sherlock jump up and down pointing to the ones he wanted asking mycroft to buy them all.

Molly shrugged her shoulders looked at the brothers and said, “What they are having,” hesitantly.

Greg’s face lit up. Guiding her to a table at the corner of the shop he returned to the brothers, Mycroft admonishing Sherlock for being greedy and Sherlock retorting that mummy said he was not and that Mycroft was a glutt.

Greg paused hearing that comment. “The word is ‘glutton’ and no, your brother is not. That is not a nice thing to say to anyone,” he said, looking sharply at Sherlock.

“If you behave nicely to your brother and apologise, I’ll buy anything you want,” Greg added, lips sealed tight , face harsh, arms crossed across his chest.

Alarmed Sherlock watched the boy who had become his best friend this past month and nodding his head vigorously, curls bouncing he looked at Greg then at Mycroft.

“That is not necessary,” mycroft interjected. “He didn’t mean any harm,” he said, arms fidgeting by his side, tongue rolling along his lower lip.

“I’ll not bring you here again if you don’t apologise,” Greg said with finality.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock mumbled looking at the floor.

“I don't think he can hear you,” Greg reprimanded the boy.

Mycroft touched Greg’s arm and shook his head.

Sighing, Greg said, “Alright, which ones do you want?”

An hour later Molly and Sherlock walked in front licking their cone ice creams while Mycroft and Greg carried a bag in each hand that were filled with boxed candies.

“You should not encourage him,” Mycroft spoke sagely, grimacing at the ridiculousness of his tone.

“We’re growing. This is the only chance we get to indulge. The end of childhood. All the fun is lost after this,” Greg spoke sadly glancing at Mycroft.

Mycroft looked at him and saw his eyes glimmer. He knew Greg was remembering his parents who were killed in a car crash last year.

Smiling softly he changed topics and said, “ _I_ should have bought an ice cream.”

“We can go back after sending these two off to bed. It’s still Christmas and all wishes must be granted,” he winked at the boy who had gone red by now and laughed out loud as they neared the house.

Molly sat on the log in their backyard eating the last bit of her cone ice cream, her favourite part, filled with nuts and the melted ice cream.

Sherlock watched her from above the tree and jumped down.

“Is it good?” he asked approaching her slowly.

With the last tidbit in her hand, she looked at him, nodding her head.

“Can I taste it?” he tentatively asked reaching the log.

Sitting down next to her he extended his hand.

Molly looked at his hand moved her lower lip out as she thoughtfully placed it on his palm, wondering aloud, “You didn’t let me taste yours?”

“But didn’t you buy the same flavour,” he asked while putting the cone tip into his mouth.

Molly jumped on him pummelling his chest and together they fell on the grass. “You greedy pig!” she yelled.

Greg came running out with mycroft shouting, “Stop it Molly!” pulling her away.

“Sherlock, it is not gentlemanly to hit a girl!” Mycroft reprimanded the boy whose curls were disheveled where Molly had grabbed them. “Apologise to her.” he said while shoving him towards Molly who was standing before Greg biting her upper lip and grinding her jaw.

“I am sorry,” Sherlock mumbled.

Sighing Greg and Mycroft left the backyard with Greg’s parting rebuke, “Behave! Both of you!”

“Why did you do that?" Sherlock asked staring at Molly.

Molly smiled sweetly gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and ran to the tree, climbing faster than a monkey.

Sherlock, stunned, realised slowly and rushed after her.

* * *

[ ](http://milliesmoviestowatch.blogspot.com/2011/04/corrina-corrina.html)


End file.
